There seemed to be noise, speed, chaos and fuss everywhere, but inside the apartment it was very quiet. Then I heard a sound outside the window, moving at great speed. I thought it was a rocket. The sound seemed to cut through the air; it flew like a whistle and I lay down on the floor in horror. Trembling, I burst into tears. For a few seconds I waited for an explosion, but nothing happened. I still don’t know what it was.
I gathered myself and looked out of the window. People were wheeling suitcases along the street; a siren sounded; birds flew in flocks. I found a piece of paper and wrote my name, my best friend’s phone number and my blood type. It is still in the pocket of my jeans as I write.
